


Unburdened

by onlyastoryteller



Series: A Room For The Night [11]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sequel to Influenced, Sex Pollen, Sort Of, slump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: A year after their dinner at Mysterioso, Timmy and Armie are navigating a long distance relationship and Timmy is worried because...it’s been a while.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: A Room For The Night [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1217478
Comments: 34
Kudos: 167





	Unburdened

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Influenced (a couple of stories back in this series). Best to read that first if you haven’t!
> 
> At long last, this piece is part of the Fandom Activists Coalition BLM drive. Thanks to those who requested a return to this story...I enjoyed revisiting these two and their dabbling in additive enhancements.

“Feel anything yet?”

Timmy looks across the dining table at Armie, who is staring at him intently, his eyes a deeper shade of blue than normal. He shakes his head slightly, feeling his heart sink a little further. He wishes that Armie didn’t think they needed this. 

“I don’t think so...nothing yet.” He drags his fork through the remaining sauce on his plate and touches the tines to his tongue. The tangy flavor of the sauce explodes across his taste buds, and he wonders if any of what he’s tasting is the special ingredient, or if that was in the steak itself. “How long is it supposed to take?”

“Don’t know.” Armie shrugs one shoulder and then sits back in his chair. “Last time it came on sort of slowly, at least for me. Like I kept feeling like I had to touch you, like it was harder to resist. It increased until…”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it might feel different this time.”

“Right.”

They sit in silence. In the year since they’d met for dinner at _Mysterioso_ , and had been given the magic meal that had made them unable to keep their hands off of each other for three days, they’d been navigating the waters of an actual relationship. 

It hadn’t been easy. Nothing worth having ever was, right?

At least, that’s what Timmy told himself during the long absences and the times when they had to pretend to just be friends in public. When he had to watch his boyfriend take some woman out on the red carpet instead of him. When Timmy had to let himself be “caught” with others. It was worth it, to be with Armie. It was all worth it. 

It was worth it to play games in public, because in private, things were perfect. Or, he had _thought_ they were perfect, until Armie had texted him a couple of months ago. 

_AH: Boarding now. I can’t wait to see you, T. I’m going to text you when I land so you can be ready for me._

He’d smiled at the text, feeling that shiver of anticipation he always felt when it came to Armie, and tapped out a response. 

_TC: Leave your clothes at the door. You won’t need them._

But then Armie’s flight was delayed on the tarmac, and by the time he reached Timmy’s apartment, Timmy was asleep. He’d had a long week, not enough sleep, and was recovering from a cold. Armie had chosen not to wake him up, just slid into bed beside him. 

In the morning, Timmy overslept, having forgotten to set his alarm, and went racing out of the apartment to an appointment with barely enough time to kiss Armie hello. That night, Armie had an event that Timmy was not allowed to be at, and once again he fell asleep before Armie had gotten back. 

Two days into Armie’s three day visit, they’d barely seen each other while awake. On the third night, they had plans with friends and Armie had suggested they cancel. Timmy didn’t want to, and so they went. When they returned home, they’d gotten into bed and Timmy had made a move to deepen a kiss, but Armie said, “can we just... _be_ tonight? I’m exhausted.”

Every part of Timmy shrank a little at that, but he’d snuggled in and allowed himself to be held. It was always nice to be held by Armie, of course, to feel those strong arms around him, to know that this was reserved for him and him alone. He loved it when they cuddled on the sofa, or when they were falling asleep or waking up in the morning. 

He told himself that they were just tired, that they’d had an off visit, that this was temporary, that next time things would be back to normal. 

But then he had had to cancel a trip for last minute reshoots, and Armie canceled a trip because of a Ford-related dental emergency, and before they knew it six more weeks had gone by, and they hadn’t had sex in over two months. Not only that...they hadn’t even been having _phone sex_ for the past month. 

When Armie had called a few days before Timmy’s last visit to LA, Timmy had finally vocalized his anxiety. 

“Is the honeymoon over?” he’d asked suddenly in the middle of Armie describing his latest workout. 

“What?” Armie blinked at him and frowned. “What honeymoon? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, not…” Timmy flushed a deep red. “Not _honeymoon_ , just like the metaphor. It just seems like you’re not as into this as you were.“

“Into _this_? Like...you and me you mean?” Armie sat forward, lines stretching across his forehead. 

“Yeah. It happens, it’s okay if you’re not, I’m just—“

“Wait a second,” Armie said, holding up a hand. “Wait. Are you breaking up with me? Over the phone?”

“ _No,_ ” Timmy said, his stomach plummeting. “Oh god, no. Ignore me, you know I get all twisted up and in my head about stuff.”

Armie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Then...I don’t get it. What is this about, and why would you think I’m not fully in this anymore?” 

“We haven’t had sex in forever,” Timmy blurted out. “It’s fine, I know that that intensity fades over time. It’s nothing.”

Armie stared at Timmy for thirty seconds, and Timmy squirmed under his gaze until he spoke. 

“First of all, I promise I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Sex, no sex — which I hope is just circumstantial — I want to be with you.” 

_I want to be with you_. Timmy’s eyes slid closed as relief washed over him. 

“Okay, good,” Timmy said, blinking his eyes open again. “It’s probably just a slump anyhow. I’m...really looking forward to seeing you this weekend.”

That seemed to be that. Timmy was relieved to shift the conversation to something a little less nerve-wracking. It was circumstantial. Armie hadn't lost interest. There wasn’t any reason behind the slump, it was just...life. 

But then, when Timmy arrived at Armie’s house, he found his boyfriend up to his ears in sick kids. Liz had gone off on an impromptu weekend trip, and had dropped the kids with almost no warning that afternoon. As soon as she left, Ford started throwing up, and Harper was right behind. 

“I’m fucking sorry,” Armie said, and he did look sorry. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I wanted to —“

“I know.” Timmy had forced a smile, and then rolled up his sleeves and jumped in to help. 

Needless to say, pure exhaustion — and switching off shifts taking care of the kids — meant that Timmy headed back to New York as frustrated as ever. 

“What if we’ve forgotten _how_?” Timmy asked, the next time they talked. “Or what if...it’s not as good as it was? What if you decide you don’t—“

“Tim, for fuck’s sake, that’s not — that’s not going to happen.” The exasperation in Armie’s voice was clear, and Timmy mashed his lips together, sorry he had said anything. Armie shook his head. “We’ll be fine. We just need to...clear out all distractions.”

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “I’m sure it’s just...circumstances, like you said.” _Except for the lack of phone sex_ , a voice chirped in the back corner of his mind. 

“You’re really stressed about this,” Armie said. “Is it because _you’re_ feeling like you’re not as into it as you were, and you’re panicking? It’s okay if that’s the case, you know. Long relationships have ups and downs with sex. It doesn’t have to mean—“

“No, I don’t feel less...I mean…” Timmy swallowed. 

Maybe he _was_ less into it. He didn’t even know what to compare it to, really, since their first time had been that weekend, when they had no control. Nothing had been like _that_ , but before that, he’d always felt drawn to Armie, like his cells were magnetically attracted to Armie’s and they were meant to be touching as much as possible. That part hadn’t changed, at least. 

“It’s circumstance,” Armie said. “And it...it comes back.”

But now _he_ didn’t sound so sure, and they stared at each other miserably for a minute. 

That’s when Armie came up with his idea, for when he planned to come to New York two weeks later. 

Armie’s idea was to get another helping of _Mysterioso’s_ magic meal. To kickstart things, he had said. He reasoned that Timmy was clearly stressed about this. And it was the length of time that was compounding things and creating nerves that might...interfere. So they’d clear their schedules — no friends, no events, nothing — and they’d dose up. They’d make sex a sure thing, and then it wouldn’t be an issue anymore. 

Timmy wasn’t so sure about that idea. 

“I’m not sure they’re even still open,” he said. “I was in that neighborhood a few weeks ago and it looked closed.”

“It looked closed the night we went, too, remember? Might just be their schtick. So exclusive you have to know it’s there to know it’s there.”

Ultimately, Timmy agreed. Maybe it _would_ be easier to just know the sex part was a done deal. Of course...then _after_ wouldn’t they still wonder if they needed the extra help? Would they always be running to supplement their sex life the second it waned? How often would that happen?

The idea scared him. He wanted to talk to Armie about it, but...like many other things, he was too scared. He didn’t want to let on to Armie just how much this relationship meant to him, and have Armie run screaming in the other direction, or feel trapped, or any number of other things Timmy imagined when he couldn’t sleep at night. 

He was nervous all day, waiting for Armie to arrive, the way he used to be when they first got together, stomach flipping over and over and his heart beating a little too fast. He stocked the kitchen, he stocked the bedside table...and then he sat around on edge tapping his feet and his fingers on any available surface. When the sound of the key in the lock finally sounded, he jumped a mile, then ran to check himself in the bathroom mirror before racing back to the front door. 

What he had been hoping was that Armie would walk in and scoop him off his feet. Pin him to the wall, ravage his mouth, suck on his neck...like he used to. Without the need for the additives. 

But Armie’s hands were full, and he leaned in for a quick kiss before brushing by Timmy to set the takeout on the kitchen counter and drop his bags in the bedroom. Then it had been like there was an awkward barrier between them. Like they were fumbling for some link or connection that usually came so easily. Instead of reaching for each other, they were circling each other like magnets that had been flipped to opposite poles. 

Finally, with a shaky breath, Timmy suggested they just eat. 

Now, he still isn’t feeling anything out of the ordinary. None of that crackling or prickling or heating up that had marked their last experience. A sick feeling comes over him. The additive only works by enhancing what’s already there. What if what was between them is truly gone? What if there’s nothing to enhance?

He looks up, and Armie is looking at him so hopefully. He can’t let him down. He won’t. He _loves_ the man with all his heart — despite the fact that he hasn’t actually had the guts to _tell_ Armie that yet, it’s been true a long time — and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to show him that.

“Maybe I’m feeling something,” Timmy says quietly. 

“Oh?” Armie perks up. “What are you feeling?”

“That I wish you weren’t so far away, because...it aches when you’re not with me,” Timmy says. That much, at least, was true. “Can we…move to the sofa?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Armie gets to his feet, then hesitates. “Or...we should probably clean this up?”

Timmy thinks for only a moment before scooping up the dishes and tossing them in the sink with a clatter. 

“There, all cleaned up,” he says. He advances on Armie, enjoying the way Armie’s eyes widen at his approach. 

Timmy grabs Armie’s hand and pulls him across the room. He’s not sure what he’s about to do, but he has to do _something_. 

He pushes Armie onto the sofa and then climbs onto his lap, straddling him. Once there, he chickens out and, instead of attacking Armie’s mouth, he collapses against his chest and rests his head on Armie’s shoulder, his face turned into the man’s neck. 

Once there, most of the tension leaks out of his shoulders as he takes a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh. Armie laughs softly and then his arms wrap around Timmy and he’s in his favorite place to be in this world. 

“Better?” Armie murmurs into Timmy’s hair. 

“So much.” Timmy inhales again, then pushes his lips out until they’re just brushing the skin of Armie’s neck. It’s smooth. “You shaved. When did you shave?”

“Oh. I just…” Armie pauses and then says, “I actually stopped in the airport.”

Timmy’s mouth curves into a smile. “You shaved at the airport? Before coming here? That’s so...cute.”

“I didn’t want anything to get in the way when I got here,” Armie says. 

“Nothing is in the way,” Timmy says. “And when this starts for real, it won’t matter. Are you feeling it?”

“I’m feeling something,” Armie says. “It’s...different than last time. Not so frantic, but…”

He sweeps his hands down Timmy’s back and around the curve of his ass, curling his hands underneath and brushing his fingers under Timmy’s balls. Timmy feels that telltale shiver, the one he was quite familiar with before the drought. 

He shifts his hips backwards, tilting his ass up slightly and giving Armie better access. Armie takes the hint and slides a hand further underneath him, teasing his balls lightly and then the base of his cock with a featherlight touch. 

Timmy moans softly into Armie’s neck. _Thank fucking god_. He pulls back and catches Armie’s eyes, sees the way his pupils have grown, the way his lips have parted slightly. His chest rises and falls, and Timmy finds himself matching his breathing to Armie’s. Something shimmers between them. 

Slowly, Timmy leans forward and meets Armie’s lips with his own. The kiss is tentative, gentle. An invitation. Armie accepts, opening to Timmy and returning the kiss with equal care. Timmy licks lightly into Armie’s mouth, and the delicate sampling stretches on. 

Timmy doesn’t know how long he spends tasting Armie, but it’s not long enough. It’ll never be long enough, even if it goes on forever. Over and over, their lips brush, their tongues meet, and all focus is on that point of connection. Timmy has no awareness of anything else: not his hands, or Armie’s, not the sofa beneath them or the clock on the wall or the light that dims as the sun begins to set. 

All he wants, if he gets to choose, is to kiss this man forever. 

At last, Armie sighs into his mouth and then just barely breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Timmy’s. 

“I missed you,” Armie says. “No, I _miss_ you. All the time. So fucking much. You have no idea, I—“

“I do,” Timmy says, his heart swelling in his chest. “I do have an idea, because I feel it too. All the time, like you said.”

“It’s not just this,” Armie says. “Not just this, not even — it’s you.”

Timmy blinks rapidly, feeling suddenly fragile, like his skin has gone paper thin and the slightest breeze could tear him into pieces. 

“Take me to bed,” Timmy says. “Please, I need you to—“

“Me too,” Armie says. 

He stands in one motion, and Timmy hangs on, wrapping his legs around Armie’s waist and burying his face in Armie’s neck, taking comfort in the scent he craves during all their time apart. Armie crosses to the bedroom in only a few strides. 

In the past, Armie has tossed Timmy onto the bed and dove in after him, has attacked him like a man who’s been starved. He’s used to being manhandled, devoured, treated like a long-awaited meal. It wasn’t rare for them both to end up with bruises and wrenched muscles after a weekend together. 

But this time, Armie approaches the bed and lowers Timmy onto it gently, laying him out with a delicate reverence. He snaps on the bedside light and stands there a moment, looking down, with a soft expression on his features. His hands skim along Timmy’s chest and arms, his legs, touching his cheeks and, when his eyes drift closed, his eyelids with the brush of a thumb. 

Timmy is shaking by the time Armie’s fingers begin to undo his pants, and he opens his eyes to watch. The glow of the lamp picks up the golden highlights in Armie’s hair, the tones of his freshly-shaven jaw. 

_He stopped at the airport to shave. For me,_ Timmy thinks. 

Armie gently draws Timmy’s pants over his hips and down his legs, then drops them on the floor. He pushes his fingers under Timmy’s shirt, and Timmy arches into his touch, letting him pull the shirt up and off. It lands next to the pants. 

Then Armie climbs onto the bed and settles on his knees between Timmy’s legs, spreading them over his thighs. Timmy gazes up at him. 

“This is my favorite,” Armie says, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. 

“What is?” Timmy asks. 

“This part. When I get to look at you, when you let me touch you. When you...look at me, like that. It makes me feel like the luckiest person on earth.”

Timmy’s breath catches in his chest. “You can’t be,” he says. “You can’t be, because _I_ am. The luckiest. That day, at the hotel, when you said you wanted me, for real...I thought I’d died. Because there was no way I could actually be getting what I’d wanted for...forever.”

“I’d wanted it forever, too,” Armie says. He sets his hands on Timmy’s knees and squeezes lightly. “It feels like I always wanted you. Before we even met, before I knew your name...wanting you was already imprinted in my DNA. I’d just been waiting for you to show up.”

“ _Yes.”_ Timmy reaches out, and Armie grabs his hands. “For me, too. When you walked into that piano lesson, something just... _clicked,_ deep in my chest. I remember thinking, for just a second, _oh, he’s here_ , and I knew I didn’t just mean my costar.”

“It fucking scared me, Tim,” Armie says. “It still does. Sometimes, when we’re together, I worry that you’ll see how much you mean to me and it’ll freak you out. Or you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Never,” Timmy says. “I’m scared, too. Because what if I lose you? What if you find someone else? What if I annoy you and you decide I’m not worth—“

“I couldn’t.” Armie surges forward, kisses Timmy firmly. “Can’t you see how impossible that would be? I’m...I’m gone, Timmy. Every part of me is tied to you. You’re braided into me. Always have been.”

“Touch me.” Timmy can hear the plea in his voice, and while normally that would embarrass him, now he revels in showing Armie how much he’s needed, wanted. Armie is being open with him, he wants to be as open with Armie. “I could spend the rest of my life with you touching me and be happy.”

Armie sits back and slips his fingers under the waistband of Timmy’s boxers. He pushes Timmy’s legs up and pulls the boxers off, tossing them to the side. He pulls his own shirt over his head, then gets off of the bed long enough to remove the rest of his clothes. 

Timmy watches, his skin rippling with anticipation. He has a fleeting thought that the desire he’s feeling isn’t the same as last time they ate at _Mysterioso_. That had been painful, desperate, full of bright colors and textures. This...this is warm and soft, long slow pulls rather than sharp yanks. 

Armie returns to the bed, this time laying himself beside Timmy, his lightly furred skin brushing up against Timmy’s from head to toe. Timmy turns into him, and they find each other’s mouths easily.

Like before, on the sofa, the kissing becomes the sole focus. There’s no rush to move on to the next step, no sense that it’s meant to be a preview. They kiss lips, cheeks, chins, necks, nibble on earlobes and collarbones and tongues with equal intensity. 

Eventually, Timmy pushes Armie onto his back and climbs on top of him. He lays himself out on his boyfriend’s body, tucks his face into Armie’s neck. 

“Can I live here?” he asks. 

Armie laughs softly, his chest and stomach bouncing up and down, Timmy with them. 

“I’m serious,” Timmy says. “When you’re not here, when I’m not _there,_ I sometimes put a bunch of pillows in a line and stretch out on top of them like this. I’ll take whatever piece of clothing you’ve left behind by accident and bury my face in it and try to imagine I’m still with you.”

“It’s never an accident,” Armie says, running his fingers down Timmy’s spine. “I leave things on purpose. I take things, too.”

Timmy smiles. “So do I.”

Armie nuzzles into Timmy’s hair. “I know. You know what else is never an accident? When I miss my flight. Sometimes I just cancel it the night before because I know I’m not ready to leave.”

“Really?” Timmy giggles. “Sometimes I turn off the alarms on purpose so we oversleep and you have to reschedule.”

“I’m glad I gave you the passcode to my phone, then.” Armie rolls his hips up, and Timmy gasps. 

He lets Armie roll him onto his back and then closes his eyes as Armie begins a journey south, tracing his fingers around Timmy’s nipples and licking and kissing in a circuitous path. He holds his breath as Armie reaches his stomach, and then sighs when Armie spreads his legs and sucks on the soft skin at his groin. 

“I hired a realtor,” Armie murmurs.

“Mmmm,” the words drift into Timmy’s consciousness, and he blinks his eyes open. “What?”

Without answering, Armie closes his mouth around Timmy’s cock and slides down, and Timmy throws his head back into the pillow on a moan. Armie works him expertly, using every technique he knows drives Timmy crazy before circling a slick finger around Timmy’s hole. 

“Wait,” Timmy manages. Armie pauses, pulls off his cock, and gazes up at Timmy, his lips wet and his cheeks flushed. 

“What’s the matter?” Armie asks, his voice raspy. 

“Nothing, but you said...realtor? Why?” 

“Oh.” Armie smiles. “I want to buy a place in New York.”

“What about L.A.?” Timmy asks. 

“I’ll keep my place there, too, so I can visit the kids, but...I was thinking about making this my home base.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Is that stupid? Should I—“

“It’s not stupid,” Timmy says, his pulse racing. “I...I’d love that, but...why?”

“Why?” Armie laughs. “Timmy, because of you. You’re here. I want to be where you are. I hate being apart from you.”

Timmy stares at him. “I’ve been looking at apartments in L.A.,” he whispers. “I called a moving company and got a quote.”

Armie grins. “Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to have to get on a plane to see each other anymore. I need _more_ of you. And you...Ford and Hops are in L.A. I can’t ask you to leave. I should probably be in L.A. anyhow now, it makes more sense.”

In a quick motion, Armie slides his fingers into Timmy, and Timmy groans. 

“I need more of you, too,” he says. “I want it all.”

As Armie opens him up with one finger, and then two, Timmy feels like he’s floating. Armie was going to _move_. To New York. Buy a whole place just to be here. To be with _him_. 

Then Armie is hovering over him, pushing his legs high and wide. “Ready?”

“Always,” Timmy says. Armie slides in and they both sigh. It’s been so long, Timmy thinks, and yet it feels the same as it ever has: like home. 

“Don’t get an apartment,” Armie says, as he waits for Timmy to adjust around him. “If you’re serious, don’t...don’t get an apartment.”

“Why?” Timmy asks. He shifts his hips and moans at the sensation of being so full. 

“Next time you fly out, let’s look for a place. Together. I can sell my condo and we can get a house.” Armie begins to move, and for a moment, the pleasure sensations drown out Armie’s words. 

Then they register, and Timmy gasps out, “You want to live together?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“What if I annoy you?”

“What if _I_ annoy _you?_ ”

“What if you get sick of—“

“Timmy, I told you, that’s not possible.” Armie kisses him, hard. “Not possible.”

“You really want that?” Timmy asks. “Because I want it, too.”

“I really do. I’ve wanted it since that first weekend in the hotel. Before that. When you lived with me years ago, I never wanted you to leave.”

Timmy feels a warmth spread over him that has nothing to do with the fact that Armie is generating heat like a furnace. He grabs Armies hips and pulls, and Armie starts to move again. He changes the angle, wraps his hand around Timmy’s cock, and Timmy sees stars. 

“I want to do this every fucking day, Timmy, every day I want to be with you. Just. Like. This.” With each word, Armie thrusts his hips and strokes Timmy’s cock, and Timmy feels his orgasm building. It’s been so long, he knows he’s not going to last. He doesn’t care. 

He grabs at the skin of Armie’s back, latches onto his shoulder, and then lets himself fall. 

When he can focus again, he realizes Armie has collapsed on top of him, and he’s exactly where he wants to be. He runs his fingers through Armie’s hair, presses kisses against his cheek, and smiles. 

“Yeah, let's do it,” he whispers. “I want to live with you. I would have said yes a year ago, too, if you had asked.”

“Oh?” Armie breathes into Timmy’s neck a minute. “I was so afraid to tell you how...strong my feelings were. Are. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Same,” Timmy says. “Terrified.”

“But not right now,” Armie murmurs. “I’m not scared right now.”

“No,” Timmy says. And he’s not. He feels warm, and safe, and loved. _Loved_. 

They lay together a few more minutes, and then Armie shifts and slips out, rolling off the bed. He returns with a damp cloth and they clean up in silence, catching each other’s eyes without embarrassment. 

When they’re tucked under the covers, and Timmy curls into Armie’s chest, he decides to just say what he’s thinking. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “I always have.”

Armie stills, and then tips Timmy’s chin up and kisses him deeply. 

“I love you, too,” Armie says. “Of course I do.”

“Why haven’t we said that yet?” Timmy asks. “I’m not...it’s not new.”

“I don’t know,” Armie says. “Same fear, I guess.”

Timmy hesitates only a moment before saying the next thing on his mind. “I told my mom I was going to marry you.”

Armie grins at him. “Oh yeah? Did she tell you you could do better?”

“No, she said, ‘Timmy, don’t be daft. You just met the man. Besides, he’s already married. And straight.’”

Armie laughs, and then stops and his eyebrows draw together. “When did this conversation happen?”

“The day we went to that church, Santa Maria Della Croce.” Timmy feels like he should be blushing. “I pretended I was joking, but...I wasn’t.”

“Do you still want to?” Armie says. “If I asked, would you—“

“Try it and see,” Timmy says with a smile. He doesn’t know why he feels so calm, but it’s like everything has smoothed out and he’s drifting in a sea of warm cotton. 

“Marry me,” Armie says. It doesn’t sound like a question. It isn’t, Timmy realizes. 

“Tell me where and when,” Timmy replies. “But give me like...a week to get a good outfit, I want you to be proud.”

“You could go like this,” Armie says. “This is good.”

After a few minutes of contented silence, Timmy says, “I guess the food didn’t work this time? I mean, I didn’t feel anything like last time, and don’t now either.”

“Yeah, me too,” Armie says. “I swear I _did_ feel something, though. Just not the same thing.” He frowns. “Hey, weren’t there choices last time?”

Timmy closes his eyes. He can see the menu, with its Italian. Three choices, Armie is right. 

“Yeah. You think we got one of the others by mistake?”

“I kind of…” Armie looks a bit sheepish. “I didn’t even think, I just went in and ordered the steak dinners.”

“What were the choices?” Timmy asks. “One about desire. And I think something about beauty?”

“Trust,” Armie says. I remember something about trust.”

There’s a beat, and then they both say, “Oh.”

“Well,” Timmy says, “I guess it worked out. All those things we were afraid to say—“

“It worked out,” Armie says. “Turns out our issue wasn’t _sex_ at all.”

They chatter sleepily a while longer, about where to live in L.A., about whether to have an actual wedding or not, about how to go public. 

“Evelyn and Nicole are going to be so pissed,” Timmy says with a giggle. 

“I know, I can’t fucking wait,” Armie says. “You know what else I can’t wait for? No more idiotic models at premieres.”

“No more pap shots,” Timmy says. 

“No more hiding,” says Armie. 

“No more pretending I’m cool with whatever,” Timmy says. “You’re mine now, and—“

“I’ve always been yours,” Armie snorts. “Even when you didn’t know. You know who always knew? Luca knew.”

“He did know. He knew even before we met. How _did_ he know?” Timmy shakes his head. “I swear, sometimes I think he has magic powers.”

“Hey, did you…” Armie frowns. “Did you ever find out where the invitation to the soft open came from? You said you were going to try to figure it out.”

“No, I never…” Timmy trails off. “Wait, you don’t think...“

“That fucking _Luca_ might be behind all of this? I mean, it’s sort of crazy, but also not.”

Armie reaches over Timmy for his phone, which is resting on the bedside table. He starts tapping the screen with one hand. 

“What are you doing?” Timmy asks. 

“I’m sharing our good news,” Armie says. He stops tapping. “With our original matchmaker.”

“It’s really early in the morning in Milan,” Timmy points out. “He’s probably—“

Armie’s phone dings with an incoming message. They peer at it together, and then laugh. 

_Luca: Glad to see you boys are feeling happy and unburdened. I’ll reserve the villa for the event, my treat._


End file.
